


Continuation of the Butterfly Effect

by Say_Nevermore



Category: Supernatural, Until Dawn (Video Game)
Genre: Crossover, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-29
Updated: 2015-09-29
Packaged: 2018-04-24 00:50:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4899154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Say_Nevermore/pseuds/Say_Nevermore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A string of strange occurrences at Blackwood Mountain lead Sam and Dean Winchester to investigate the area. Meanwhile, Chris and Sam struggle to keep a consequence from these events hidden from the hunters.</p><p>(Summaries are the <em> worst </em>.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: Maybe, Maybe Not.

**Author's Note:**

> Help- I want this idea to be a thing but I'm a terrible writer.

Sam slid his laptop across the table to Dean. 

“Here: Blackwood County, Alberta. Dense woods means tons of unexplained crap, the most recent being the disappearance of a local boy, Joshua Washington.” 

Dean skimmed through the webpage, taking in photos of the thick boreal forest surrounding the area. 

“And why is this our kind of thing?” 

“That kid went missing around the same time his younger sisters did, a year ago. Same place. Bodies were never found.” 

Taking his computer back, he scrolled through the web page. 

“In fact, that area has seen a lot of tragedy over the years. In 1952, there was a collapse at a mine where eighteen workers died. The rest were trapped underground for three weeks and later on in that same year, a sanatorium closed after “suspicious deaths” occurred on the property.” he quoted. 

The older brother listened, nodding to himself.

“That’s a lot of bad luck, I’ll admit, but it may be just that: bad luck, Sam. Alberta is a pretty big detour for a missing kid.”

“Maybe, yeah, but the kid going missing on the anniversary of his sisters’ disappearances? That’s…hang on.“ Sam paused in the midst of pleading his case, looking over the new information he’d found on a historical site for the county. “Maybe not. It says here that Blackwood was originally inhabited by the native Cree, who were driven out by early mining development in the area.”

“So, what, pissed off natives leave a curse on their land?”

“Could be.”

“Alright,” Dean grumbled. “Let’s check it out.”


	2. Chapter 1: They're Nesting

Pulling Josh from the mine had been nearly impossible and Chris had numerous bite scars to attest to that fact. Despite the curse’s unwillingness to relinquish its grip on his friend, there had been success in diminishing its effects in the weeks following the incident at Blackwood Mountain. 

Sam had helped him wrangle the snarling, thrashing wendigo into the cable car and down the mountain, to the nearest hospital. The emergence of Josh’s monstrous teeth had torn the left side of his face and blood oozed down his chin every time he tried to snap at the pair. It had taken seven people to hold Josh down to sedate him and the promise of a very generous donation to the hospital from the Washington family to ensure the doctors’ silences. 

Extensive surgery had removed many of the needle teeth lining Josh’s maw until he could fully close his mouth again. The rest had been filed down to assure the boy would not lacerate the inside of his mouth or his tongue by accident. His cheek had been repaired by a plastic surgeon, a thin white line served as the only reminder to his disfigurement. 

Josh’s parents had pointedly refused institutionalization on their son’s behalf, unwilling to let their only remaining child be taken from them. They’d kept their son heavily sedated in a private room of the hospital until his violent instincts had begun to taper off. From then on Josh met with a psychiatrist multiple times every week who monitored his progress strictly, looking for signs of the re-emergence of “wendigo psychosis”. During this time, Josh was being subjected to a different anti-psychotic or anti-depressant every week until his psyche stabilized. 

Though Sam had helped save Josh, she’d kept her distance from the young man until Chris had confronted her and then begged that she visit him. He’d understood her hesitance in seeing Josh; his prank had gone too far and even if he wasn’t directly responsible, their friends were still dead. She had started small, only visiting him when he was chemically restrained or asleep, but eventually, they had progressed to a tentative new friendship. Sam understood the extent of Josh’s instability and how delicate his state was now. 

When Chris thought about Ashley, he didn’t want to forgive him. He and Sam were both still in therapy and Chris felt like he was nowhere near being able to put the trauma to bed yet.

_“Recovery takes time Chris.”_ his therapist had said.

 

Now, Chris sighed when he opened the door to his friend’s room and found Josh huddled under a pile of blankets. The heavy curtains were drawn across the windows in an effort to make it as dark as possible. 

“Josh?” 

When there was no movement from the bed, he knew the boy was awake. Some wendigo traits had stuck with him, even when he’d managed to shake the worst of the curse. Chris knew that if Josh had been sleeping, the faint noise of the door opening would have been enough to awaken him. 

After a few seconds, his friend’s head appeared. 

“What’s up, Cochise?” 

“What are you doing in the dark, dude?”

“Sleeping.” 

“You weren’t sleeping.” he countered, rolling his eyes. 

He flicked the switch, turning on the light in the room. Josh grumbled, ducking back under the blankets. 

“I was.” came his muffled response. “You woke me up when you came in.” 

“The room? No, you were already-“ 

“The front door.”

Chris dropped his backpack at the door and shucked off his coat, tossing it at the edge of the bed. 

“That’s uncanny.” 

The mass of linen rise and fell, presumably as Josh shrugged. 

The young man looked around the room. Josh’s laptop was in sleep mode on his desk and there were scattered papers around it. A mug sat on the window sill. Clothes were spilling out of the boy’s hamper. He moved over to the cup on the ledge. It was full to the brim with coffee, long gone cold, with cream curdled on the top. 

“Bro, what were you doing?” 

His head popped up from under the blankets. 

“When?” 

“Today? What did you do today? Please tell me you didn’t stay in bed.” Chris asked in concern. 

He could think back to many bad times where Josh had spent all day in bed, lacking the motivation to complete even the most fundamental of tasks, like brushing his teeth or getting food. “I didn’t.” the boy replied, sitting up and kicking the blankets away from himself.

“I worked on some assignments for “History of Film” and then I heard birds outside my window and I watched them for a while. Then I got tired and laid down for a bit.” 

Chris gave him a strange look. “You watched birds? For how long?” 

“I don’t know. Like an hour maybe…maybe two.” 

When Chris’ expression intensified, he shrugged. 

“They’re nesting in the tree.” he offered as an explanation. 

“Were you…hungry?” Chris asked carefully. 

There had been incidents since Josh had come home. Not many, but Chris could now cross seeing his best friend snatch a bird right out of the air off his bucket list. Also he had no idea where the stray cat that had previously haunted the Washingtons’ neighbourhood had run off to. Really. 

Josh shook his head, to the other boy’s intense relief. 

“No. I mean, a little, yeah, at the start. But like…it got interesting. They work so hard man. They flew back and forth, over and over, with little pieces of twigs and stuff to build their nest.” 

Chris studied his friend for a moment before deciding that he was simply comfortably stoned from his medications and not in danger of devouring any small Aves. 

He looked down at the mug full of coffee in his hand and frowned. 

“Hey, have you eaten yet today?” 

Josh stood up and stretched, arms flexed high above his head. 

“I had toast.” 

“Toast barely counts.” Chris admonished. “Let’s go get you some food.” 

 

In the kitchen, Chris dumped the cup and rinsed it, as Josh began to make himself a sandwich. He paused, holding the plastic bag of cold cuts. 

“You know what, man? I’m not feeling it.” he said, nose wrinkled in disgust. 

“Well, what do you want then?” Chris asked, leaning against the sink. 

“I don’t know. Chinese? I could go for some lo mein or like…eggrolls.” he answered, putting the food away. 

His friend shrugged. 

“Alright. Let me get my jacket.”


End file.
